The Shattered Prayer

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Now for Beggars Would Ride. Apparently there is a no erotic rule (which I will gladly ignore for a good story) and I originally thought I would do an erotic story for this, but in the end, I went a different way.

Beggars Would Ride

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse steeled themselves for the quest before them. They went forth in silent determination, knowing the importance of their work. When all seemed lost and despair was beginning to set in, the first of the Horsemen, Pestilence spoke.

“Maybe we left the Horses in the North Parking Lot,” he intoned gravely.

Death looked over at him and snapped, “I cannot believe this. We are supposed to be Harbingers of Destruction, the ultimate in Fear Inducing Creations of God. And we can’t even find our fucking Horses! This is embarrassing.”

Pestilence was beginning to get defensive. “Don’t blame me. I said we should just take the Horses inside with us. We’d’ve looked awfully impressive riding in astride our steeds.”

War growled, “Don’t be an idiot! You can’t bring Horses inside the Mall of America!”

Pestilence shot back, “Don’t get snippy with me, Mister! This isn’t my fault!”

War laughed, “Oh, I beg to differ! You most certainly were the one that just had to come see the Mall of America! I suggested somewhere more fitting; somewhere more terrifying; somewhere more in keeping with our terrible nature. But No. Not you! You had to go shopping!”

Pestilence looked hurt at War’s anger. “Excuse me, War! I had never seen the Mall of America before and had heard such great things about it. They have an amusement park inside the actual mall itself. I mean, that’s just impressive. And even a bit terrifying! Granted, it’s terrifying in a ridiculous camp materialistic way, but terrifying none the less!”

Famine sighed, “But did we get to ride any of the rides? No. Because someone forgot to bring any money!” He looked pointedly at War.

War practically yelled, “Why should I keep up with the money? Why is it always my responsibility? There are Four of us! You all have jobs, too! Bring your own damn money!”

Famine said, “There ain’t much money in famine, mate. You are the one who is supposed to be responsible for the money. That’s how it has always been and that’s how it will always be. After all, booty is one of the spoils of War!”

Pestilence giggled at the word booty.

The other three looked at him disapprovingly. Death berated him, “What? Are you in third grade? Booty? You’re seriously laughing at the word booty? Seriously?”

Pestilence looked chagrined. “It’s funny.”

The other three snapped in unison, “It is not!”

Death stopped short and the other three nearly fell over him. “This is getting us nowhere,” he said. “This is the most embarrassing, most idiotic thing that I have ever experienced. Who was responsible for keeping up with where we left the Horses?” He looked at the other three with his grim visage, an edge of menace creeping in his voice.

War and Pestilence both looked at Famine. Famine threw his arms in the air in frustration before finally putting them down on his hips. “Okay. So maybe it was supposed to be me. But we were in there for a very long time, and it is so huge. I just got disoriented.”

War snapped, “You didn’t seem to get disoriented in the men’s fashion stores. You found your way through them fairly easily!”

Pestilence snapped back, “I have to look my best!”

War held up his hands in amazement, “You are Pestilence! You are never going to look your best! Hell, being around you makes me sick!”

Pestilence drew in his breath in shock, “How very dare you! I am the height of fashion. Just because I may cause a tiny bit of disease or a little smidgen of rot wherever I go doesn’t mean I have to look bad doing it!” He crossed his arms and turned his back on the other three. “And besides, we seem to always fight when you’re around, War. Can’t have a moment’s peace without you bellowing this and bellowing that. Well guess what, mate? No one cares about your stupid conflicts! It’s like that song says! War? Good God, y’all! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! I’ll say it again.”

Famine quickly put his hand over Pestilence’s mouth, partially to prevent his singing and partially for protection from their Boss. “Now, don’t go calling Him into this. We cannot let anyone know that we lost our Horses, especially the Trinity. I mean, Jesus would never let us live it down.”

Pestilence considered and said, “He is a little preachy.”

Death couldn’t take any more. He balled his fists and punched them in the air, shouting, “Shut the fuck up all of you!” All of them wheeled around to look at him. He was so furious that smoke seemed to be coming from the hollow of his eye sockets. “What have I ever done to deserve the three of you? It’s not like I don’t have enough to do with so many people and animals dying every frakking minute of every frakking day! And now I’m behind in collecting souls because Famine is too fucking stupid to remember where we fucking parked!”

The other three stopped dead at his outburst. They didn’t move at all for what seemed an eternity. Death was pleased at their seeming obeisance. He allowed himself the satisfaction of feeling that they had finally realized the seriousness of the matter at hand. That feeling was immediately stripped away, however, when Pestilence snarked to Famine, “Well, what’s got into her?” He looked back to Death and said, “You’re a little emotional, sweetheart! Better adjust your hormone injections! You’ll never get a date acting like this!”

Death bowed his head in disgust, his arms hanging impotently at his side. “I give up,” he conceded.

War, Pestilence, and Famine then took to arguing loudly with each other once more about whose fault this was. Death seethed at their insipid yammering. As their bickering got louder and louder, he just got angrier and angrier. Finally, standing in the South Parking Lot of the Mall of America, Death made a decision. He couldn’t go on like this. He didn’t care what the consequences were, he didn’t care who he pissed off, he was not going to spend another day with these three simpering fools. Reaching deep down within the fibre of his anthropomorphic being, he drew forth the power that he had been given in his creation, the power over life itself. As this awesome and frightening power welled within him, he felt a strange peace descending over him for what he was about to do.

He was going to kill his coworkers.

The power reached a crescendo and he whipped out his arms, letting it flow through him and out of him. A wave of death streamed from his arms in an arc before him. As it washed through the air, everything living in its presence fell dead immediately upon contact. Insects fell out of the air crashing dormant to the ground; bacteria died by the billions on the surface of all the cars. Even all sound itself seemed to fall from the world around them.

The other three Horsemen looked up in horror as the mortification wave rushed towards them.

And then it hit them full force in the face!

But managed only to slightly muss their hair.

The three of them blinked as the wave passed, then looked around at each other making sure they were still alive. After being reassured that they were indeed numbered among the living, they looked at Death in a shocked and disbelieving manner. Death, for his part, looked sheepish and embarrassed at how his mortification wave had turned out.

War broke the silence by asking incredulously, “Did you just try to kill us?”

Death shrugged and squeaked, “Maybe just a little.”

Now it was War, Famine, and Pestilence’s turn to be furious. They all stepped towards Death, intent on showing him just how they felt about his little outburst when they heard a heart stopping noise. From behind them in the parking lot arose a chorus of whinnying, and the disturbing sound of four horses dropping to the pavement.

The four Horsemen quickly oriented themselves to the sound, Pestilence crying out, “Mr. Hay Neigh!” As one, they rushed in the direction of the outburst.

And found all four Horses dead in the parking lot, laying unceremoniously between an Oldsmobile and a Ford pick up.

Disbelief gripped all of them.

War summed up their feelings succinctly by breathing quietly, “Oh, shit.”

The other three Horsemen looked up at Death, who was beginning to get a horrific feeling in his gut.

Pestilence pointed a bony finger at him and said, “You killed Mr. Hay Neigh!”

Death backed up a little bit, “I didn’t mean to,” he offered a pathetic defense.

War shoved a thick meaty finger into Death’s bony chest demanding, “What the hell are we going to do NOW?!” stabbing his fellow Horseman with every single word.

Death stepped back, putting his hands up defensively. “It’s not that bad. We’ll just have to get new horses.”

Pestilence was horrified, “Replace Mr. Hay Neigh? I could never do that.”

Death said, “Look. Don’t panic. We’ll be all right. Everything’s going to be fine. We just have to find new Apocalypse Horses. How hard could that be? I mean, it isn’t as if the Apocalypse is starting now!”

Just as he finished saying this, the earth beneath them started to rumble and the sun turned dark. The moon appeared on the horizon, blood red, and stars started to fall from the sky. Then the sky rolled back like a scroll and a terrible trumpet sounded.

The Four Horsemen looked at each other. War once more summed up their feelings by saying “OH SHIT!”

Famine looked at Death and asked, “What are we going to do now? We have to ride into the Apocalypse and you just killed our Horses!”

Death began pacing furiously. He then looked around him and said, “We’ll have to get a ride from one of the shoppers!”

The other three looked at him like he was completely mad. War shouted, “We are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! Not the Four Chevy Impala Riding Men of the Apocalypse!”

Famine snapped, “Do you honestly expect us to bum a ride to the single most important event in our lives?”

Death snapped back, “What choice do we have? We can’t just not show up!”

Pestilence said worriedly, “We are so going to get fired.”

War was shaking his head in complete disbelief. He finally said, “Okay. We’re going to have to do this. Spread out people!

“We’ve got to find ourselves a ride to the Apocalypse!”

Buy me a beer!

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